Color Palette
by Britin Anne McCarthy
Summary: There is a break in the fighting and Trent uses the time to concentrate on his art. Conner/Trent


_"The white canvas-- it's like a layer of dust that covers up the real painting. It's just a matter of cleaning it. I have a little brush to clear away the blue, another for the red, and another brush for the green. And when I've finished cleaning, the picture is all there."_

_Georges Braque  
French Cubist/Fauvist Painter, 1882-1963_

The days when Mesogog chose not to attack were few and far between and while it was nerve-wracking to wonder what he was planning the down time did not go unappreciated. They were still teenagers after all; they still had lives to lead, commitments, homework to ignore until the last minute. Since there was no way of knowing when the attacks would hit a lull they of course never made any standing plans but each one had their own method of relaxing.

Ethan had babbled on rather animatedly about some kind of gaming tournament that he wanted to attend, something with zombie mummies and killer mutant cats. Shaking her head at her friends geeky enthusiasm Kira couldn't stifle the chuckle as she ducked out as well, claiming that she had a lot of missed practice time to make up for while Dr. Oliver excused himself to catch up on some grading he'd fallen behind on. Conner's destination came as no surprise, he claimed the soccer field was screaming his name and he'd been depriving his fans for far too long.

Hayley had given Trent the day off, claiming that she was more then capable of holding down the fort and ushered him out the door insisting that he go and enjoy himself. Having no set plans and not belonging to any sort of extracurricular activity Trent packed up his sketchbook and supplies and made his way through town to the city park

Camping out underneath a large maple he stretched and closed his eyes, face angled toward the sun and just taking a moment to breath in the calmness. Slowly letting the breath out he opened his eyes feeling centered, grounded, and focused.

Sitting up a little straighter Trent felt the rough bark of the tree rub against his back as he adjusted his position and reached for his sketchbook. The majority of the flat white pages were filled with rough pencil sketches, doodles and half finished projects. A random set of lips there, a hand in the corner of another page, sometimes a quick sketch of one of his teammates or their zords popped up as well Trent's gaze flickered over each one briefly as he flipped past searching for one drawing in particular.

It was at the back of the book, a simple piece, a beach scene at sunset with a sail boat in the distance. Nothing stellar but sometimes what you really needed was a little piece of tranquility. Reaching into his bag Trent pulled out a fine black pen and kneaded eraser getting to work on the process of inking the picture. As the pen scratched across the papers surface the eraser followed behind and removed the faint pencil markings leaving a crisp two dimensional image in its wake.

The next step was always his favorite; coloring in the picture always seemed to give it a life of its own. It shown with vibrancy and gave the picture a sense of warmth that it was missing when it was just a simple, sterile black and white piece. Glancing down at the package of colored pencils resting on his sack Trent's artist eyes roamed over them as he debated which one to use first. Plucking out a vermillion orange Trent chuckled as he caught sight of four very familiar colors.

There was yellow, the color of sunshine, that was Kira. It was the color of creativity, something the young song writer had in spades, and clarity. Kira had this uncanny ability to see past the façade and to the real person inside, she'd been one of his first friends when he arrived at Reefside and the only one whose trust in him never seemed to falter despite the white gems influence. There was a sarcastic edge to her, a spice that made her different from other girls and allowed her to shine above them.

Ethan was blue, he was trustworthy and dependable, the solid one you could always count on. Blue was a calming color, it promoted peace and encouraged communication which explained Ethan's position on the team perfectly. He was the buffer for the others, the one whose gentle personality had a calming effect on the others and reminded them to think straight, he helped them to see the bigger picture. Ethan had been the one capable of breaking through Cassidy's harsh exterior and Trent doubted anyone else had the patience to even try let alone the amount of tolerance it must have taken.

Black was next, some considered it to be the absence of color a void of negativity but the Japanese saw it as the color of experience. Like Dr. Oliver it was resilient and controlled, deserving respect and having enough knowledge and real life experience under his belt that the respect was rightly deserved. He trained them and taught them pulling from years of fighting and despite being their superior he was level headed and trusted in their abilities.

Conner was red; he was enthusiasm, confidence, and warmth. Hot headed he was the first one to dash head first into danger, never doubting his ability to make it through. He had an electric warmth about him, a fiery heat that was contagious. Red was the color of good luck, it protected one from their fears, and encouraged a person to quit sitting on the sidelines and take action. Conner believed in their mission with his entire being, he had a passion about him on and off the battlefield that no one could match.

Slipping the pencil back into its spot Trent was concentrating so hard on his work that he didn't notice he had company. Leaning against the tree his silent companion stood over him and took their time studying his form, running their eyes over every inch. A stick cracked under foot and Trent lifted his head to find himself face to face with a smirking Conner. Knowing his cheeks were red Trent quickly looked back down and attempted to focus on cleaning up now that his drawing was finished.

Conner was having none of that, a firm but gentle hand cupped Trent's chin and lifted it to meet his gaze, light eyes meeting dark and the soccer star grinned. His thumb pad rubbed over one of the corners of Trent's mouth before leaning and closing the gap between them with a warm kiss.

"You're awfully cute when you concentrate," Conner grinned his voice holding a teasing tone "The tip of your tongue sticks out and you look all serious."

Trent did his best to send his boyfriend a mock glare but it didn't last, "And you smell like sweat."

"Bah," Conner said dismissing it with a wave of his hand "Sweat is sexy. Now come on! Were not getting any younger and we've got the rest of the day to enjoy!"

Trent laughed and made short work packing up the remainder of his supplies. Before climbing to his feet he dropped a chaste kiss on Conner's cheek, the other boy beamed and linked their hands together tugging Trent along with him to the sidewalk. Tomorrow Mesogog would mostly likely attack, with renewed enthusiasm as well as a hideous monster, when he did though Trent would be right there to fight along with his teammates because that's what white did, it amplified the powers of the other colors and worked along with them. For now though he was content to let life move on with its lazy course and just enjoy himself. Even if it meant listening to more of Conner's locker room stories.


End file.
